A Helping Hand
by quokka
Summary: Ziva comes up with a creative solution to help Tony, who refuses to take painkillers after injuring both arms.
1. A Helping Hand

Would Ziva actually make this suggestion? *shrugs* initially I didn't think so, despite obviously coming up with the idea, but after watching season 3 again, I'm leaning towards 'possibly'.

This is my first, and most likely last, smut fic. I've reread and rewritten this so many times, I'm now at a complete loss as to whether the story itself is any good, let alone the smut . Any and all mistakes are my own because I was too embarrassed to send it to a beta reader (so obviously, according to my brain, the next best thing is to publish it online where dozens or hundreds of people can read it…I really hate my brain sometimes).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't, I'm sorry and probably won't do it again.

* * *

"David! Get in here!"

Ziva rushed into the cramped bathroom, gun at the ready, only to be greeted by steam wafting from the shower stall and a white cast, with wiggling fingers, dangling in the air outside of the stall.

"I could use a hand in here," Tony said as he heard the door open. He had been desperate to wash away the dirt and blood and relax his muscles after getting pushed out of a second floor window 7 hours earlier. It wasn't until he had stepped under the spray of steaming hot water that he'd realized his error; broken right wrist and dislocated left shoulder. The painkillers had started to wear off on the drive to the hotel, but apparently not enough to clear his head.

Not getting an immediate response he took a step from behind the matted glass door to see what the holdup was. He was about to ask Ziva if she could help him wash his hair, when the steam had cleared enough for him to take in the scene before him; Ziva with a confused look on her face, hair loose and already starting to frizz from the humidity, clad in black lace trimmed bra and panties, gun drawn.

Tony wanted to question her on her choice of underwear for the week-long surveillance they had been on, when he finally realized that, not only was he buck naked, he was in no condition to turn this scene—which could've come right out of one of his fantasies—into something more interesting.

Ziva's confusion dissipated quickly at finding her partner safe and alone. And very naked. Seeing him look her up and down with a somewhat dazed expression broke the bad mood she had been in ever since Tony had tried to flirt with the female paramedic on the way to the hospital. Emphasis on tried. If adrenaline hadn't been coursing through her body from thinking her partner—the man she was…considered her best friend—had plummeted to his death, she would've laughed at his feeble attempts.

Eyes wandering all over her body, he licked his lips and she couldn't resist messing with his drug addled brain. Just a little bit.

"Where exactly would you like that hand?" She asked sweetly.

"I…uh…will you put that gun away? It'll make things a lot easier," he asked, blinking rapidly and shaking his head a little, trying to clear his mind.

"Am I making things hard on you, Tony?" She drawled out his name and let her eyes drift down his body slowly as she placed the gun on the sink beside her.

Tony swallowed hard, then narrowed his eyes at her, "You know, for someone who doesn't speak English, you sure know how to throw around sexual innuendos."

"I thought you called me in here because you had a…job…for me. Not to criticize my language skills."

He took in the mischievous glint in her eye and huffed. As much as he'd missed their flirtatious banter the last couple of years, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with her. Not with the remnant side effects of the painkillers and the increasing pain clouding his mind.

"I need help washing my hair," he said with a serious, slightly embarrassed look on his face.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "And you could not think of that before you got into the shower," she deadpanned.

She could hear him grumble under his breath that 'this was a bad idea' and softened her expression, while stepping closer. As she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, his eyes went wide and he turned his back to her.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a confused voice.

"Getting in the shower with you. To wash your hair," she replied as if discussing the weather.

His head involuntarily whipped around briefly, but long enough to see she was in the process of removing her panties.

"Such a bad idea," he mumbled. "You don't have to be naked to wash my hair, you know," he said, heart rate increasing, trying to get the image of her naked, lithe body out of his mind before all of his blood rushed south.

"This is the last clean underwear I have -"

"I was wondering about your choice of underwear to go on assignment," he interrupted, trying to glance over his shoulder.

"I didn't have time to do laundry before Gibbs sent us here and I am not getting your blood all over my underwear," she said matter of factly.

 _Worst/best idea ever_ , Tony thought as Ziva bumped into him getting into the small shower stall behind him. He could feel himself get hard as she reached past him to grab the bottle of shampoo, her arm brushing against his stomach, nipples barely touching his back.

"This is ridiculous," Tony mumbled to himself. _I thought painkillers were supposed to lower your libido_.

"It is ridiculous, it will be a lot easier if I am in front of you and you can lower your head towards me," Ziva said.

He tried to look at her while keeping his back towards her. "I dunno. That would be kind of uncomfortable…" he said sheepishly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm naked…in the shower…and you're, um, just as naked and, well, there's not a lot of room in here to avoid, um,…contact."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You choose to become self-conscious right now? Our nakedness did not seem to bother you when we were undercover with a bunch of federal agents watching."

He tried to shrug and instantly regretted it when his left shoulder protested.

"If I recall correctly, you had no problems with making _contact_ at all back then," she taunted.

"You're really not helping," he said through clenched teeth.

"Fine," she huffed, "but you do not have anything I have not seen before."

He looked over his shoulder as best as he could given his injuries, trying to look her in the eye. "I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of pervert-"

Her laughter cut him off.

"Everybody already thinks that," she teased and instantly regretted it at the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

"But, they do not know you like I do," she quickly added in a soft and serious tone.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards briefly. Facing forward again, he said, "If you tell McGee about this I'll have to kill you."

She harrumphed. "I would like to see you try."

Ziva squirted a dollop of shampoo in her left hand and looked up just in time to see Tony slowly twist his head left to right, the way he did when he was getting a headache. _The painkiller must be wearing off_ , she thought, reaching around him to put the shampoo back, this time careful to brush against him as little as possible.

As Ziva started lathering up his hair, she warned Tony to keep his eyes closed. His only reply was a short grunt. She saw the muscles in his shoulders and neck twitch and asked, "Has the painkiller worn off?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Why didn't you take another one when we got back to the hotel?" Ziva admonished.

He sighed slowly, enjoying the way Ziva had started massing his scalp and neck. "You know how I get on painkillers."

"If you're worried I will record any of your embarrassing behaviors and show them to McGee and Abby, I promise I won't," she said solemnly.

"I'm more worried about annoying you. We've had a rough week, and you still have to drive us home in the morning. Your driving is bad enough when you've had a good night sleep, I don't want to find out what it'll be like after I irritated you all night."

He had turned his face slightly towards her delivering the last line with a small grin on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him and twisted his head forwards again. Not too gently, she was making a point, but not too rough either, the man had fallen out of window, after all.

She continued massaging his scalp and the base of his skull for several minutes in silence. Even though some of the tension was visibly leaving his body, she knew he was still suffering. And she also knew he most likely wasn't joking when he implied he wasn't going to take any painkillers.

"I read an orgasm can relieve pain," she said suddenly, sounding like she had just found the clue that would solve one of their cases.

Tony looked back at her, incredulous look on his face. "Where did you read that?"

"The same magazine you read. Only, I don't get distracted by the pretty pictures," she replied coyly.

Noticing his furrowed brow she shrugged and in a clinical voice said, "Might be worth a try."

His jaw went slack.

"Unless you would rather check facts with Ducky first." Ziva raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"In case you haven't noticed, my dexterity isn't the best at the moment," Tony replied, baffled they were having a conversation like this…in the shower…with him getting more aroused by the second.

"You did ask for me to give you a hand," she replied.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," she said with conviction. "You're in pain. You're my partner and best friend and I might be able to help you. Why wouldn't I be serious," she continued calmly.

Tony considered his options; take painkillers and hope they also took care of his hard-on but risk the wrath of Ziva if he acted too crazy all night; spend the night in bed next to her, in pain, with a hard-on and images of his naked partner shampooing his hair in the shower running through his head.

He had to admit the alternatives didn't look too appealing. Ziva's solution on the other hand sounded extremely appealing. He just wasn't sure things wouldn't get awkward afterwards.

As if reading his mind, she said, "It's just a hand job, Tony. We are both adults, and you," she raised an eyebrow at him, then continued, "certainly have plenty of experience separating physical acts from feelings."

He bit his lower lip, mulling over her proposal. She had a point, of course. Especially about his past dalliances. Except, he didn't exactly feel about those flings the way he felt about her.

"It will not get awkward if we don't let it," she said with confidence.

The sincerity in her eyes clinched the deal for him. If she could handle this, so could he. "Okay," was all he said, before turning his attention to the tiled wall in front of him.

Tony could feel his right arm starting to get numb from holding it outside of the shower cabin in an unnatural way, but his focus quickly shifted to other parts of his body as soon as Ziva placed her hands on either side of his hips.

"If you want me to stop, at any time, just say so. Okay?"

Her voice sounded calm and relaxed, which reassured him that they could indeed do this without ruining their friendship and partnership. He gave a nod of acknowledgment, then swallowed hard and tensed up as he felt her left hand move to slowly, but firmly caress his lower abs. When the fingers of her right hand trailed down his hipbone to his inner thigh, barely missing his balls, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in a short puff.

Relaxing into the sensations of Ziva running her hands over his body, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Ziva's unique scent and proximity hit him hard and his arousal increased even more. Her left hand had slid closer to, but not quite where he wanted it. And he could barely hold back a sound of protest when her right hand suddenly left his skin altogether.

His eyes flew open, mere seconds later, when she placed her right hand, now slick with saliva on his dick. His breath hitched, and his brain had trouble processing whether it was actually Ziva wrapping her hand around his erection, or whether he was simply imagining it was her, like he'd done before with several one-night stands. He suddenly regretted not being able to see her. All of her.

As she began to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, his eyes fluttered shut again. He could feel the heat of her body radiate all over his back. Or maybe it was a combination of wishful thinking and the warm water falling down on him, on them, from the shower head above.

As she started speeding up and slowing down her movements, tightening, then lightly releasing her grip, he dropped his head forward. And when her left hand joined in and started following the pulsing rhythm of her right hand, all coherent thought left his brain as the heat inside him intensified.

He lowered his arm from where he had been cradling it against his chest, intent on pulling her closer to him, to feel more of her skin against his. He hissed as pain shot through his shoulder. Despite the increased pain, he was acutely aware of Ziva standing up straighter behind him, probably trying to gauge what had happened. Her hands kept squeezing and stroking him, though. Somewhere in the back of his mind he admired her ability to multitask.

Tony looked down, hoping the sight of her soft hands working his cock would take his mind of the pain. The precision and speed with which she could assemble a gun with those skillful hands, had always been a bit of a turn-on. He knew she could kill with her hands, and on more than one occasion had she used them to inflict pain on him (always deserved, he had to admit). Regardless, he'd often fantasized about what they would feel like in a more intimate situation.

The feeling of loss when Ziva suddenly removed her left hand brought Tony back to the present. Her breasts now pressed against his back made up for it, though. And when she laced her fingers with his and pressed his arm against his chest again, holding it firmly in place, he felt a whole new warmth spread through his body.

Tony glanced back, trying to look her in the eye. He needed to see her. See what she was thinking. She was standing so close now, though, that he only got a glimpse of her wet curls covering her shoulders. He longed to run his hands through those tresses and all over her body. He let out a groan when she replaced the pumping motion of her right fist with gently running the pads of her fingers across the underside of his dick, only to swirl over the ridge once she reached the head.

As she continued the slow tease, torture, he could feel his muscles grow weaker by the second. Maybe doing this standing up after the day they'd had wasn't the best idea. He accidentally banged the cast on his right arm against the glass of the shower door, making him jerk and slightly lose his balance backwards.

Ziva secured her grip around his chest, leaning into him. The tip of her nose touched him right between his shoulder blades, and as he felt her breathe on his skin, it felt as if Ziva was all around him. One hand on his dick, the other holding his arm tight, essentially anchoring him to her, as her small, perky breasts pressed into his back and her firm lower belly against his ass.

He let out a nervous huff and licked his lips, relishing in the new sensation of having Ziva's soft, slick skin molded against his back. He didn't think this was what she'd had in mind when she suggested helping him out. And he briefly wondered whether she'd be okay with this much contact. That was, until he felt her lips against his wet, heated skin and a hesitation in the previous smooth rhythm of her right hand.

 _Did her breath just hitch_ , he thought, cursing the suddenly overwhelming sound of the falling water.

The thought that she might actually be enjoying this, perhaps even be a little aroused, made his head spin. Feeling her hand firmly grip his shaft again made him lose control. He couldn't help but thrust into her hand as his balls tensed up.

Ziva rested her forehead against his back and goosebumps formed where her breath caressed his skin. It became abundantly clear that his breathing wasn't the only one that had quickened.

The sensation of thrusting into her slick, wet palm and feeling his ass bump against her belly, made a familiar heat spread deep within him. His thighs and ass tightened and he let out her name on a groan. She tilted her head upwards, dragging her tongue and bottom lip across his back ever so briefly, before resting her chin where her forehead had been. As if she were waiting for him to repeat her name. Who was he to deny her that.

Somewhere in his muddled mind he knew that that most likely wasn't the reason, but her name slipped past his lips a second time, anyway. The fingers that were entwined with his, on his chest, flexed and held on tighter.

Ziva's right hand sped up in a twisting motion. His head lolled backwards at the intense sensation, then forwards, needing some kind of proof that this was really happening. That this wasn't just his imagination running wild. The now cold drops of water falling on his head weren't enough of a confirmation that he was wide awake.

He could feel the telltale warmth spread throughout his body, but part of him didn't want this to end. Who knew if this would ever happen again. As much as he wanted to hold out longer, his exhausted, injured body was getting the best of him.

So, when he heard Ziva say, "Just relax, Tony," in a voice thick with arousal, all he could do was give in. He closed his eyes and groaned, climaxing into his partner's fist. His best friend. His…hopefully something more someday, because fuck, this can't be the only time he'll ever be this close to her.

As his knees buckled a little, Ziva tightened her right arm around his stomach.

"I've got you," she said reassuringly, in a low voice.

"You have no idea," Tony replied, trying to steady his legs. His heart seemed to be beating a million miles an hour and he wasn't entirely sure whether that was merely caused by his orgasm, or by the woman who gave him the orgasm.

The fatigue that suddenly came over him was overwhelming. All he wanted to do right now, was sleep for 24 hours. Preferably with Ziva molded to his side.

Ziva turned off the water and managed to maneuver both of them out of the shower without any accidents. He stood in front of a mostly fogged up mirror, eyelids drooping. When he noticed movement in the mirror, he did his best to focus his attention on Ziva's back. She put on the hotel robe, started towel drying her hair with one hand while handing him a towel with the other.

When he didn't make an effort to take the towel, she turned towards him with a quizzical look. Tony was certain that the goofy expression he undoubtedly had on his face, was only rivaled by his dopey painkiller-induced look. That's when he slowly realized the pain had indeed decreased.

"You were right, Miss David" he almost slurred. Her brow furrowed the slightest, and he clarified, "the pain's almost completely gone."

He took in the darkness of her eyes, the small smile now gracing her lips, completely unaware of the fact that he was still soaking wet. In fact, beads of water were now rolling down his right arm onto his cast. Ziva put a quick end to that, drying his arm with the towel she had tried to give him a minute ago.

She brought the towel up to dry his hair, stepping in closer. Tony was surprised at how relaxing it felt to have Ziva gently dry his hair. How intimate it felt.

He tilted his head forward to give her better access to the back of his head, consequently bringing his face inches from hers. Her eyes, swimming with emotions, drifted from his hair to his eyes, then flicked to his mouth for a split second. His right hand moved to her hip on its own volition, fingers lightly scratching at the softness of her robe.

"Thank you," he said, voice low. "That was very…helpful. Perhaps I should start listening to you more often."

She huffed, a playful smile appearing on her lips, and said, "I have been telling you that for years."

The bathroom started to feel entirely too hot as she moved the towel down his body. Slowly. Meticulously. As if to make sure she wouldn't skip a drop. It felt like bitter sweet torture, staring into her eyes now, their skin no longer touching but her still touching him…differently.

As he touched his forehead to hers, he saw her eyes flutter shut for a second. And for that second, he felt a different tingling sensation build within him. _This was it. Finally_ , he thought. _They were finally going to cross that invisible line they had been toeing for years_. One second seemed to stretch for eternity. Until she opened her eyes and all he could see was regret and guilt.

She took a step back, and asked, "Do you need help getting dressed?" Eyes evading his as his heart plummeted.

His no was laced with disappointment, and it made her look him in the eye again.

Ziva bit her bottom lip, inhaled deeply, and said, "I am sorry, Tony. I behaved…unprofessionally…after you lost your balance."

Tony shook his head. "Unprofessionally?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yes," she said with determination, clenching her jaw briefly. "I…should not have kissed your back. And I apologize if that made things awkward."

"Ziva…" But he really didn't know what to say. So he just looked at her. Fingers laced in front of her, back rigid, eyes staring to a spot right above his shoulder. The way he assumed she would stand in front of her father when he had called her into his office, back in her Mossad days. Completely closed off.

He took a step closer and the way she clenched her jaw again, the way her eyes darted everywhere but at him, made his heart ache.

Tony let out a sigh, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. _He didn't have the energy for this now_ , flashed through his mind. But he knew he had to fix this, if he didn't want his earlier fears of ruining their friendship come true.

"Ziva, look at me," he said quietly. When she finally did after what felt like an eternity, he gave her a relieved smile. The smile quickly faded when he heard a voice coming from the other room.

Ziva shook her head lightly, and said, "I had set up the laptop to call Gibbs right before you called me in here."

Tony's mouth formed an O and then he frowned. "You were planning on skyping Gibbs in your lingerie?"

Ziva gently slapped the back of her hand against his stomach, a sly smile forming on her lips. "No. But I'm certain he would've appreciated that more than seeing you naked.

Tony was relieved the mood had lifted somewhat and struggled a bit to get into his boxers.

When they walked in front of the laptop and sat down at the foot of the bed, McGee blurted out, "Did you guys shower together?", while Gibbs gave them his patented stare of disapproval.

Before Tony had a chance to deny, Ziva simply answered, "Tony needed help washing his hair."

Gibbs' glare turned into a murderous look while McGee next to him turned beet red. Ziva rolled her eyes at them and added, "I would have helped any of you if you had been in Tony's shoes."

Tony's head whipped to the side so fast he briefly saw spots. Ziva ignored him, though, keeping her eyes on the screen, a composed look on her face. He made the mistake of letting his eyes glide down her body on his way back to the laptop screen. He lost interest in the conversation seeing the slight swell of her breast where the robe gaped open. And as his eyes slid lower, landing on her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the belt of the robe, he couldn't help but remember what those hands had felt like on his dick. The fact that her right leg was completely exposed didn't help either.

Ziva kicked his leg, to snap him out of his reverie, but the action had made the lower half of her robe shift and expose even more skin. By now, Tony was acutely aware of the dopey look on his face. And as he finally looked up to find Ziva staring at him, wordlessly begging him to act normal, all he could do was let out a snicker, turn towards Gibbs with a ridiculous grin and say, "You won't believe the day I've had."

"Looks like the painkiller's working," Gibbs grumbled.

Tony blinked a few times, then smiled a little as he turned to Ziva. "Oh yeah…I love it," he said without thinking, still staring at Ziva. He could see Ziva's shoulders tense ever so slightly, as soon as the words had left his mouth.

He turned back towards the laptop, worried Gibbs might have noticed, but in true Gibbs fashion, he had already ended the call without so much as a goodbye. They both sat staring at the black laptop screen in silence. Not for the first time when it came to his partner, he wished he could read minds so he'd know exactly how she had interpreted his words. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he should interpret his words.

Ziva glanced over at Tony, then stared at her hands, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. _I shouldn't have kissed him_ , she thought, _I've been able to resist so many times, why crack now?_ _Because you thought he'd died. Again,_ said an annoying voice in her head.

She stood up and closed the laptop, they needed to talk this out, preferably without interruptions.

Tony followed her movement and got up to stand right next to her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, only clad in boxers, which did nothing to quench the heat inside of her from their little get together in the shower. And of course her brain had to choose that exact moment to remember, not only that she was very naked and wet underneath her bathrobe, but also how he had felt in her hands, the small sounds he had tried not to let slip from his lips, her name on a groan he couldn't contain. Her eyes flicked in his direction as she licked her lips. Which is when she realized she was the one making things awkward. He had been fine until she had started to apologize for something he apparently hadn't minded.

"Hey," he said softly. "Thanks again…for… earlier."

She turned to fully look at him. "Anytime," she replied, screwing her eyes shut and shaking her head as soon as she saw him raise his eyebrows and grin widely.

"I mean…my pleasu…" She gave up trying to come up with something more appropriate when she heard him chuckle.

"Your English sucks, David," he said and winked hoping to ease some of the tension out of her.

He was doing his best to catch her eye again and said in serious tone of voice, "So… am I to assume that if Gibbs had sent McGee on this operation that you would've helped him… _wash his hair_?"

The doubt and hopefulness were written all over his face and made her heart ache.

"I would have given him my dry shampoo," she deadpanned.

When he smiled at her, the doubt disappeared from his eyes and she could feel a completely different tingle go through her body, the same way it always did when he looked at her like that.

"You know, Miss David, as soon as I'm back to my old athletic self, I will repay you for your help. With interest."

Even though the room was dimly lit by one bedside lamp, she could clearly see his pupils dilate. Her eyes flitted to his lips and back to his eyes on their own volition.

"You don't really need to be in pristine health to do that you know..." She glanced down pointedly and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah but you see, I've waited far too long, and you deserve far better, than a half-assed attempt."

She tilted her head to the side a little, not trusting she'd understood him correctly. One of these days they really needed to start having an actual conversation about what they meant instead of talking around it.

"Well then, I look forward to it," she said with a soft smile.


	2. Lip Service

A/N: A Helping Hand was supposed to be a one shot, even though I had this second chapter running on repeat in my mind from the beginning. After the feedback I've received, I realized my explicit writing wasn't as bad as I originally thought and decided to go ahead and try and write the second chapter down.

I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading, favoriting, following or leaving feedback on my stories. It means a lot to me, and has made the difference between throwing in the towel and trying again.

Enjoy!

* * *

It had been three days. Three days since a, now dead, embezzling Lieutenant Sanders had pushed him out of a second floor window. Three days since he had very limited use of both his arms. Two days since he'd, temporarily, moved in with Ziva.

Ziva, who had spent seven days with him in a cramped hotel room, surveilling the lieutenant. Ziva, who was now on suspension, courtesy of Internal Affairs, for using excessive force on an unarmed suspect—even if he did almost kill her partner. Ziva, who, three days ago, had offered to give him a hand job as casually as if she had offered him a cup of coffee.

Apart from the very short talk they'd had after Gibbs' video call, they hadn't really discussed it again. And he was relieved to note that things hadn't gotten awkward between them. Not during the six hour drive home. Not when she'd offered to let him stay with her until his left arm was out of a sling. Not even when he insisted they'd share the bed instead of Ziva taking the couch. "Not as if I can't keep my hands to myself now," he'd joked.

Which is why he now found himself relaxing on her couch, feet propped up on her coffee table, drinking her tea and reading one of her many books, feeling perfectly…at home. Even despite the lack of a decent TV and surround system. He looked up from the book at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey. How'd the meeting with IA go?" Tony's eyes took her in, as she dumped her backpack next to the door and took off her boots.

She let out a suppressed sigh and rolled her eyes, shaking her head a little. "I do not know."

Tony watched her walk to kitchen, retrieve a beer from the fridge, flick the cap into the trash can with great expertise and then turn towards him. He had trouble reading the conflicted expression on her face. Dealing with IA always left her frustrated. But something else seemed to be bothering her today. She took a swig of the bottle, never taking her eyes of him. Then another, followed by the pursing of her lips.

"Did they say when they'd have their final report ready?"

He almost missed the barely perceptible shake of her head. She simply kept staring at him with that unreadable expression. Her chest rose notably when she inhaled deeply through her nose, right before looking away for a moment.

When she looked at him again, something had changed. The conflict in her eyes seemed to have made place for acceptance, and he briefly wondered just how bad the meeting had gone. Were they really going to take her badge for what had happened? He would've done the same, and so would Gibbs and McGee.

"It doesn't matter," she replied solemnly, before making her way over to him.

Tony expected her to flop down on the couch and pull her feet up, the way she often did. Instead she stopped inches away from him. He used to think he had gotten pretty good at the art of reading Ziva David, but as she looked down at him, a small smile playing on her lips, he couldn't read her at all.

Ziva placed the beer on the coffee table behind her and slowly straddled his lap, her eyes flicking all over his face. Tony's chest got tighter as she settled down into a comfortable position. And when he felt her hands on his cheeks, and he saw the raw look of relief in her eyes, he could feel a tingle rush through his body.

"All that matters is that you're okay," she said simply. As if her job didn't matter to her. As if she hadn't worked her butt off to become a real NCIS agent.

Tony licked his lips involuntarily, still staring in her eyes, awed that she'd finally let down her walls. He placed his right hand on her hip, slightly frustrated by the limitations of the cast, then realized if it hadn't been for that cast, they might not be here, like this, right now.

His eyes fluttered as her thumbs slowly stroked his cheeks. She leaned in and they touched foreheads, one of her hands slipping down, resting right above where his heart was quickly picking up speed. Her eyes had closed and she was inhaling slowly, as if she were breathing in the moment. And with every breath Tony took, he could feel himself become more and more intoxicated with her. She pulled back mere inches and looked him in the eye again, the corners of her mouth twitching. And when she was seemingly satisfied with what she'd seen in his eyes, she closed the gap and touched her lips to his.

He was momentarily dazed by the softness, not just of her lips, but of the kiss itself. When they'd kissed during their first undercover assignment, it had been exactly what he'd imagined it would be like with her; fast, exciting, demanding, feisty. But this, the way she slowly caressed his lips, sometimes barely touching, just breathing, gently sucking on his lower lip, then letting go on a sigh, then starting all over again, this was all-consuming.

When her hand moved from the stubble on his cheek to his hair and she finally deepened the kiss, he pulled her tighter to him. As she opened up to him and he swirled his tongue around hers, he tasted the lingering sweetness of berries and mango, mixed with beer. He started struggling to remove his left arm from the sling it was trapped in, he needed to pull her closer, run his hands through her soft curls. But she halted his movements with the hand that had, up until then, been feeling exactly what she was doing to his heart.

When she pulled back and rested her forehead against his again, he let out a small whimper he would never admit to. Ziva rubbed her nose against his in response, sighing. Tony wanted to protest when she leaned back slightly, moving her hand from where it had been grasping his hair, back to slowly caress his cheek.

"When you're healed," she murmured, a promise. And when she looked at him, eyes full of love and adoration, a wide smile on her lips, he smiled back, his heart full of love and hope. This was it. They had finally crossed that invisible line. They were finally on the same page.

Tony couldn't have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. Not when she shifted to his right, draping both legs over his lap, resting her head on his good shoulder and a hand over his heart. Not when he pulled her a little closer with his right arm and felt her relax even more against him. Not when she fell asleep, her snores filling the otherwise quiet living room, the late afternoon sun streaming in.

A tickle in his nose roused him from sleep the next morning. He scrunched his nose and moved his head to the side a bit, hoping that would help. It was then that he realized his face was buried in Ziva's hair. Instead of moving away he inhaled deeply, a small smile forming on his lips as the scent of her shampoo and, well, her, registered in his brain. Not quite fully awake just yet, he hummed, causing Ziva to stir.

And suddenly he was awake. Wide awake. Fully conscious of Ziva's body pressed tightly against his side. Her head on his shoulder, right arm possessively over his stomach, leg in between his…too close…or maybe not close enough…he couldn't decide. The one thing he knew for certain was that this was a damn fine way to start the day.

Tony knew Ziva was awake as soon as he felt her whole body go rigid. He was relieved when she relaxed against him a second later and fleetingly touched her lips to his chest. His good morning startled her again and she looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes. When he told her lazily how he'd always wanted to wake up under a silky-soft Israeli sheet, she merely chuckled and melted into him again.

He trailed his fingers over the sliver of exposed skin below the hem of her tank top. "I could get used to this," he murmured.

She hummed and her fingers started dancing over his side. The ticklish sensation almost forgotten when her right leg moved, pressing herself against him deliciously. He wet his lips and closed his eyes for a second.

"Should I…get used to this?" he asked.

She raised herself on her arms and leaned over him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

The shrill ringing of her phone broke the spell. Ziva rolled her eyes and muttered something in Hebrew, leaning over him to grab her phone. Tony lifted his chin to get a better look at the curvy line of her ass, relishing in the feeling of her taut stomach now resting on his dick.

When she ended the phone call she sat back and pursed her lips.

"Gibbs," Tony said.

Ziva nodded. "IA cleared me."

He furrowed his brow at her tone. "Well, that's a good thing, right."

She gave him a tight smile. "A petty officer is missing. So is her 8-year old daughter."

They both knew what that meant; Gibbs at his worst. And the team was a man down. Tony sat up and brushed his lips against hers briefly. "Call me, or mail me, when you can. Tell Gibbs I can always come in to make some phone calls or something," he said. She gave him a quick kiss and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for what could possibly be a long and harrowing case.

Gibbs had been barking at her and McGee ever since she had arrived at the Navy Yard at 0900, only 20 minutes after his phone call. They had all worked non-stop, collecting evidence, tracking down leads. In the afternoon, Ziva had spent several hours on the road with Gibbs, questioning unhelpful witnesses and chasing a suspect who turned out to have an iron-clad alibi. This only made Gibbs even more unreasonable. At one point, he had even yelled at Abby over the phone.

When she had suggested getting food from a drive-through to take back to the office, he had slammed the steering wheel, asking her if she thought the petty officer and her daughter were getting food. The migraine that had been developing for the past hour only got worse after that.

Back at the Navy Yard, Gibbs stormed off upstairs as soon as they had gotten off the elevator. Ziva squinted as the light and glare from the skylights made the throbbing in the right side of her head even worse. She plopped down on her chair and immediately grabbed the bottle of painkillers from her drawer, realizing they probably wouldn't do her any good by now anyway. Looking up again she found McGee staring at her in concern.

Ziva closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Whatever you do, McGee, do not suggest getting food," she said in a tight voice.

"Have you eaten anything at all," McGee asked.

"Not since yesterday evening." She pressed her fingers against her temples for a few seconds, then opened the file in front of her to get back to work.

McGee walked up to her desk and said, "I can get you a Nutter-"

Ziva cringed and looked up at the sound of the head slap. Gibbs threw a piece of paper on McGee's desk and told him to get a Nutter Butter on his time and to track a financial lead.

Around 2130 she mailed Tony, letting him know they were at a dead end until new information showed up, but that they'd most likely be stuck in the office all night.

When the elevator dinged half an hour later in the quiet bullpen, Ziva cringed at the sound. The sight of Tony strolling in, grinning ear to ear, carrying pizza boxes made the corner of her mouth twitch, though.

At Gibbs' glare, Tony simply replied that some of them needed more than coffee to stay alive and solve a case. Gibbs had merely closed the folder in front of him forcefully and grabbed a slice of pizza on his way to the elevator.

Tony walked up to her desk, balancing a pizza box on the tips of his fingers. When he came to a stop in front of her desk, he winked and said it was her favorite. Unfortunately, the greasy smell that wafted from the box as he opened it made her nausea worse. She tried to muster a small smile for him, despite the pounding in her head. He tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her face and she tried to literally wave off his concern, grabbing a slice and a napkin. Ziva was relieved when he didn't press her further and turned to sit at his desk.

He started questioning McGee about the case, throwing in his two cents here and there, while eating pizza, frequently glancing in her direction. She nibbled on the food, not daring to eat too much at once and massaged her neck trying to focus on the file in front of her.

When Tony announced he was going to take some food down to Abby, Ziva didn't have to look up to know his eyes were trained on her as he walked past her desk to the elevator.

A short while later, McGee followed Tony to the lab, babbling about encryptions and firewalls and whatnot. Ziva merely lifted her hand in acknowledgment, eyes still staring at the black, blurry lines on the entirely too bright white page in front of her. As she heard the elevator doors close, she let out a frustrated groan and slammed her hand on the desk. Nausea took over and she instantly regretted the short outburst. Not to mention the greasy slice of pizza.

Ziva made her way to the bathroom and squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights and reflections in the mirror once she opened the door. She brought cold water up to her face, but it gave little relief, so instead she held her wrists under the running water to help settle her stomach.

When the bathroom door opened, she wasn't really surprised to see Tony walk in, concerned look on his face. She closed her eyes again, no longer having the energy to pretend she was fine.

She felt him step up behind her and when his fingers softly kneaded the base of her skull, she couldn't help but lean into him a little. It didn't take long before he quietly cussed under his breath and lowered his hand. Disappointed, she looked at him over her shoulder and melted a little at the apologetic look on his face as he held up his right arm and mumbled "damn cast." She gave him a small smile, closed her eyes and leaned her head back, focusing on the sensation of his two day scruff against her right temple.

They stood like that for a few moments, Tony holding her close. The hard cast pressing against her stomach as he held her tighter was in stark contrast to the soft lips that had started to caress the right side of her face. Her nausea at bay, she turned off the tap and grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands, before bringing one up to keep his face in place.

"You know…I still have to repay you for your…help," he breathed into her ear in between kisses.

Her lips parted and fire spread through her veins as flashes of her hands on his heated, wet skin came to mind, of him moaning her name as he finally let go.

Ziva turned her head to look at him, their noses bumping and breaths mingling. She wanted to ask how he was going to do that, when he couldn't even massage her neck with his hand in a cast, but the throbbing in her head and the warmth spreading through her body made it hard to form the words.

"That promise wasn't just lip service," he said in a husky voice, staring into her eyes. She sucked on her lower lip and blinked a few times, eyes flicking to his lips, wondering what they would feel like all over her body, all over her…

"And I promise you, my actual lip service is excellent."

The hungry look in his eyes had the pounding of her heart drown out the pounding in her head, and when his right hand pulled on her hip to twist her in his embrace she followed willingly.

Tony stepped in even closer, essentially pinning her against the counter, leg pressed between hers. He flexed his thigh muscles and Ziva struggled to keep her eyes open, this time not because of the harsh light, but because of the overwhelming heat and wetness building in her center. She dropped her head against his shoulder as he increased the movement of his leg and let his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt to lightly trail up and down her spine.

Tony's lips found their way to her face again, straying to her ear, breathing heavily, nipping at her earlobe, licking at just the right spot a bit lower, slowly, agonizingly slowly, licking and kissing his way down her neck, and everything was too much, too intense and she couldn't hold back the shuddery breath that left her open mouth.

Ziva tilted her head to give him better access and threaded her fingers in his hair, guiding him, holding him. His fingers trailed a path from her back to her stomach and her hips bucked against his thigh involuntarily.

His mouth left her neck and he lifted his head, hand stilled at the front of her jeans, waiting. It took her a few seconds to realize he was probably waiting for her to respond. When she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, the raw need she saw made her knees buckle. _What the hell is happening_ , she thought, _no one had ever made her legs go weak_. Her body was thrumming with both pleasure and pain, and she didn't know what answer he had expected to find in her eyes, but when he popped the button of her jeans and fumbled with the zipper, his fingers so close now, she decided she couldn't have cared less.

As he tried to push down her pants with only one hand, it suddenly dawned on her that they were still at office.

"Tony…maybe…we shouldn't be doing…this…now." His lips had found that spot on her neck again and between his lips and teeth and the throbbing in her head, and lower body, it had become increasingly more difficult to stay coherent.

He looked her in the eye again. "The door's locked. Gibbs is still out, McGee and Abby were in some kind of techno babble high when I left them."

His words barely registered, though, between feeling him so deliciously close now and feeling miserable for the better part of the day. She was breathing heavily and couldn't decide whether to keep staring at his eyes or those tempting lips that had been teasing her skin. So she pushed down her pants and panties, letting them pool around her ankles, only briefly wondering what the hell she was doing, when a whiff of her own arousal overpowered the chemical smell always present in the bathroom.

Tony inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw, before reaching his arm behind her, intending to lift her onto the countertop. The hard plaster cast against her bare ass made her jerk forward and gasp.

"Sorry," he breathed and looked at her pointedly. "Up."

Ziva hoisted herself up and sat in between two sinks, vaguely wondering how sanitary this was, until his lips were on her neck again, just below her jaw, trailing a path of wet kisses to her collarbone, his fingers tracing down her thigh to softly caress the back of her knee. She gripped his right bicep and drew in a sharp breath as the tips of his fingers drew circles on the sensitive skin. Part of her wanted to smack the grin that had appeared off his face. Another part of her wanted him to never stop looking at her like that.

Tony kept staring at her, his grin growing wider as his fingers moved up to her hip and she hated - but loved - not knowing what he was up to. When he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the counter, she automatically reached for his belt buckle, anxious to speed things up and get the inconvenient layer of fabric out of the way. Tony tsked and shook his head, taking her hand and distracting her by running his fingertips lightly along her palm.

Ziva bit her lower lip, trying to repress the frustrated moan bubbling to break out. She was exhausted from the migraine, from the anticipation, from the fire running through her veins. She closed her eyes in an effort to regain some semblance of control, only to open them when she heard a joint pop and felt his hand on her thigh again. He was down on his knees looking up at her, a slightly embarrassed, self-conscious look on his face.

"Are you ok…ooh." His damn fingers started doing that thing to the back of her knee again, making her eyes flutter. He leaned closer and when he inhaled deeply with closed eyes, licked his lips, drawing in his lower lip, she lost it. "Tony," she growled. His eyes shot open and the raw lust she saw made her muscles clench.

Tony licked and kissed the inside of her thigh, inching closer and closer to where she wanted his mouth the most. She'd lost count of how often she'd fantasized about that mouth going down on her during all those long stakeouts where he refused to stop babbling. He looked up at her with hooded eyes. Never breaking eye contact, he slowly started licking her wet center, bottom to top, with a flat tongue. She trembled, hips bucking into his face, and her hands gripped his hair, never wanting to let go.

Seeing him between her legs felt surreal. She pushed his head closer and he increased the pressure as he sped up, ending each lick by placing his mouth over her and sucking her clit. Ziva moaned at the new sensation, mouth hanging open, breath coming out in short puffs. She saw his eyes become impossibly dark and the growl he let out reverberated all through her core.

The onslaught of sensations and emotions was overwhelming, and she had to brace an arm behind her, leaning back slightly as she closed her eyes, her hips rocking without any conscious effort, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke. She couldn't stop the little gasps and moans leaving her throat any more than she could stop the coiling sensation low in her belly. And when he started to hum every time he sucked on her clit, she couldn't stop the shockwave that ripped through her body and pushed her over the edge.

He continued lapping her up at a slower pace until he felt her relax and the hand in his hair guided him upwards. Ziva felt another shiver run through her when she saw him lick his glistening lips, hungry look still in his eyes. She held his face so close they bumped noses and she slowly ran her thumbs over his lips, making him hum again.

The sound stirred something in her and she roughly replaced her thumbs with her lips. Sucking on his bottom lip, biting down then running her tongue over it to soothe it. The taste of her lingered on his lips and made her walls clench again. He willingly opened his mouth when she started kissing him hard, demanding more, teeth clicking, her hand in his hair, arm around his neck keeping him close. But when she started to suck on his tongue hungrily and lowered a hand to rub his hard-on through his pants, he groaned and pulled back reluctantly.

"Ziva," he said so tenderly, she focused her attention on his eyes again. He brought her hand up to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles. "This was all about you. About making you feel better." he continued softly with a smile.

She drew in a shaky breath, because really, nothing had ever been all about her. At least, not in a good way. Not like this.

He rested his forehead against hers and she wrapped her arms around him, more mindful not to hurt his injured shoulder. When the fire inside her died down to a relaxed warmth, she looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you, Tony." Her voice broke a little on his name and he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"My pleasure," he said, fire still smoldering in his eyes. "And, I still owe you interest." He grinned widely and winked.

"Trust me, Tony," she said staring over his shoulder, taking a few seconds to try and compose herself again. She turned her attention back to him, eyes flicking to his lips and said, "I will collect in a couple of weeks."

Ziva lowered herself off the counter, purposefully bumping into him. He hummed approvingly as he stared in her eyes for a few seconds before wetting his lips again. He kissed her right temple gently, then murmured, "I'll see you at home."

Her heart skipped a beat. Even though his use of the word home may not have had any deeper meaning to him, it did to her. She watched him walk towards the door backwards, phone to his ear to call a cab, not breaking eye contact. He looked her up and down with a lewd smile when he bumped into the door, which was when she remembered her pants were still pooled around her ankles. He just winked and walked out the door.

After cleaning up, she looked in the mirror and was surprised at the reflection staring back at her. Ziva couldn't remember the last time she had looked so relaxed. Care-free. Content. Happy, even. She let out a small chuckle at the uncharacteristically emotional thoughts running through her mind, all of them involving one very special Agent DiNozzo, and made her way back to the bullpen.

"Where did Tony go?" McGee asked.

Ziva startled. "Oh, he went home." That warm feeling enveloped her again and she couldn't suppress the small smile on her lips as she walked towards her desk and sat down.

"Feeling better?"

She looked up again, brow slightly furrowed, heat rising in her cheeks.

"The migraine," McGee explained.

She smiled warmly and said, "Yes. Looks like that last painkiller really did the trick."


	3. Manual Labor

A/N: I realize I haven't been personally responding to reviews much lately, I'm sorry. Been feeling a bit blegh (look at me; pretending to be a writer, pretending to be capable of expressing my feelings), but I'll get around to it soon.

Enjoy.

* * *

Four weeks—a whole month—and Ziva hadn't killed him yet. In fact, she seemed to enjoy his company. A lot. Which had surprised him, somewhat. He wasn't surprised that he had enjoyed her company, though. Occasionally he had visited the bullpen the first two weeks of his recovery. To lighten the mood, he had claimed, but really, not seeing Ziva all day long drove him mad.

Not that he didn't enjoy their evenings and mornings together. Those were great, just the two of them. But going from seeing her more than ten hours a day to sometimes barely two hours a day was giving him withdrawal symptoms. So when he finally lost the sling and started physical therapy two weeks after the accident, he jumped at the chance to be on desk duty. Ziva, who hated desk duty with a vengeance, had looked at him like he was insane.

The limitations of his left arm after getting rid of the sling had been disappointing, though, and his right wrist would probably take another four weeks of healing—only two more weeks in a cast if he was lucky. He'd donated his first cast to Abby; she'd drawn skulls all over it when he'd fallen asleep in her lab. Considering he could've broken his head instead of his wrist, he'd found the artwork rather morbid and was glad he had an appointment to have it replaced the next day.

Ziva had been helping him with his physical therapy exercises and he was making good progress, despite being careful not to overdo things. He knew rushing would only set back the healing process, and he had yet to make good on his promise to Ziva. Well, part of it anyway.

Being so dependent on another person those first few weeks had been more of a struggle than Tony had expected. Not that he minded how touchy Ziva had to be to help him. That was the only upside to being pushed out of a window. What bothered him was the fact that he felt lazy and unappreciative for not being able to help her with anything.

So in an effort to make himself somewhat useful and show his appreciation, Tony had upgraded her pathetic excuse for a TV after only a week at her place. Fair enough, the act hadn't been entirely altruistic. As much as he liked reading the occasional book, he missed his movies when Ziva wasn't around.

When he'd managed to wash his hair all by himself after the first week of physical therapy, he'd walked into the kitchen smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. Ziva had been preparing breakfast and had laughed out loud at his enthusiasm over achieving such a trivial task. Then suddenly, without warning, her face had fallen for a split second, before she had turned and focused on cooking again. He'd almost missed it, temporarily distracted by the smell of frying bacon—turkey bacon, because even though she wouldn't admit it, little things like this told him she worried about his long-term health. Ever since that moment, he had caught her with an almost melancholic look on her face more than once.

She hid it well, as usual; nobody at work had noticed, but it had troubled him all week, nonetheless. And despite the fact that it was a quiet Saturday morning and they were tying up some loose ends on their latest case, his gut was almost screaming at him that something was wrong.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they could be out of the office around noon and enjoy what was left of the weekend. Maybe he could put his investigative skills to good use later on, and figure out what was going on with her before everything went to hell, the way it usually did between them when they didn't talk.

The churning of his gut was only rivaled by the itchy feeling under his cast, which had been driving him mad all morning. He finally resorted to stealing a ruler off of McGee's desk to scratch the itch. McGee complained loudly and told him he owed him a new ruler, Ziva scrunched up her nose and threw a paper ball at him while reminding him of his doctor's warning. He couldn't have cared less and sighed at the temporary relief.

"If I catch you doing that at home…" Ziva said, a sly smile on her lips before she got cut off by Gibbs.

"When _are_ you going home, DiNozzo?"

Tony's smile didn't falter when he turned his focus from Ziva to his boss.

"Thought you two'd be done playing house when you lost the sling." The disapproval was evident, not just in Gibbs' tone, but also in the piercing blue eyes that were now staring him down.

Tony was about to make a comment about not rushing perfection when he turned his attention to Ziva again. The smile slipped from his face as he took in her rigid posture, clenched jaw and the otherwise blank expression on her face, now focused on her computer screen instead of him.

He frowned, his mind trying to connect the dots.

"Well, Ziva's helping me with physical therapy," he replied in a neutral tone, keeping his eyes on her. "And she suggested helping me pass the shooting test left handed, so I can get back in the field."

Apart from a few rapid blinks, Ziva hadn't moved, hadn't even put her hands on the keyboard and pretended to work. Tony quickly glanced over at Gibbs and added, "I thought you'd appreciate the extra effort we're putting in to get the team working at full capacity again."

Gibbs' stare was still cold enough to make hell freeze over, and it made Tony's hackles rise. After Ziva had…put her medical advice into practice a month ago, he had decided that, as far as he was concerned, rule 12 had fallen out of that window with him and died.

Fully intent to stand his ground and debunk anything Gibbs could throw at him about his damn rules, Tony's expression turned stone-cold. Gibbs' eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly before he briefly looked over at Ziva, got up and walked out, telling them to get out of there as soon as their reports were done. Tony frowned, not sure what had happened, but feeling like he had somehow won that battle…kind of. Maybe. A little bit?

Ziva now had an equally confused expression on her face, and he had to admit, he preferred that to the wistful look he'd seen earlier.

"So," he drawled, grin firmly in place. "Shooting range when we're done here?"

The wide smile she sent him before turning back to her computer—and actually working this time—almost made him forget about his resolution to have a serious talk with her later. Almost.

§

All three of them had finished their paperwork in record time, and once at the shooting range, Tony had insisted Ziva shoot a few rounds first. He'd always been a sucker for hot chicks with guns, and figured the visual memory might lessen the pain he would undoubtedly have to endure in his shoulder when it was his turn to shoot.

The glint in her eye when she turned to him, after surveying her handiwork with an almost smug expression, made his heart flip. The woman really did enjoy shooting a gun.

After reloading and handing him the weapon, Ziva gave him some pointers and he shot a few rounds. She helped him readjust his stance slightly by molding herself to his back. Tony blinked slowly, memories of the last time they were in that position flooding his brain.

"If you had been my firearms instructor at the Police Academy, I would've done a lot worse."

"I am an excellent shot and instructor," Ziva said peeved, moving to stand in front of him, glaring.

"What I meant, Ziva," he drawled out her name, "is that if Larry, the obese, balding instructor who always smelled of anchovies and cigarettes had used your…hands-on technique, I would've either shot him or myself. Larry standing two feet from me for one minute was enough incentive to practice hard so he'd go far, far away to hopefully never return."

"So…you need incentive to practice harder?" Ziva said, a coy smile on her lips.

She stepped in closer and his right arm went around her waist on its own volition to pull her closer. Over the past month nothing had escalated between them. Well…except for those two very intense bathroom encounters—but those hadn't really been about sex, or so he kept telling himself—and a handful of make-out sessions that had been cut short by ringing phones. He really hated having to be reachable at all times.

Her gaze flicked to his mouth before staring him in the eye again. She stood on tiptoe and purred next to his ear, "I'm sure we can think of some kind of incentive."

Tony's heart sped up as her breath tickled his ear, and he chuckled lowly at the promise. Eager to get home, he reloaded with one hand and tried to focus on the target instead of the heat Ziva—who hadn't stepped back, at all—was generating.

Unfortunately, he ended up spending the majority of the evening with an ice pack on his shoulder, high on painkillers, his earlier plans and fantasies a vague memory.

§

Tony had slept through Ziva's Sunday morning run, breakfast and her trip to the farmers' market, before the midday sun finally filtered through the closed curtains and his eyelids. He was disappointed, but not surprised, that Ziva's side of the bed had long gone cold, and relieved that the pain in his left shoulder had dissipated. Less than two seconds after burying his face in Ziva's pillow his stomach growled loudly and he decided to go in search of food. And maybe, if he got lucky, he'd get to bury his nose in Ziva's hair instead of just her pillow.

"Lunch is ready," she said as he walked into the living room.

"How could you possibly know I'm hungry," he asked in a gravelly voice, soaking up the warm smile she sent him.

"Either you are hungry, or, for some inexplicable reason, there's a dinosaur in my bedroom."

"It wasn't that loud," he deadpanned.

"Paleontologists are probably on their way over here right now," she teased as she patted his stomach on the way to the kitchen.

"Don't make me regret watching Jurassic Park with you last night," he countered, grinning.

Ziva tilted her head. "I'm surprised you even remember that."

"Well," he said sheepishly while sitting down at the kitchen table and scrunching his nose at the salad Ziva placed in front of him. "My memories are a bit blurry after putting in the DVD."

They ate in amicable silence, and Tony offered to help out with some household chores afterwards. Not just because he finally felt like he was able to contribute, but also because it gave him an opportunity to get Ziva to open up to him about what had been bothering her all week.

If they wanted to make this work, however undefined _this_ still was, they had to start communicating better. There's only so much loud looks and body language can tell. And he never wanted to hear Gibbs say "I told you so" when it came to him and Ziva.

"Can you drop me off at my place later on," Tony said as he worked in sync with Ziva to fold a bed sheet.

"Sure."

"Thanks. Now that I can drive again, I can get my car and be out of your hair," he explained, as he stepped closer to her with his end of the sheet.

Ziva's smile faltered slightly before giving a tight nod and a smile, that didn't reach her eyes at all, as she took the corners of the sheet he was holding, and quickly turned away from him to complete the folding.

"Hey," he said softly, touching her arm to hopefully get her to face him again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said casually, shaking her head and shrugging lightly.

Tony pursed his lips realizing he hadn't seen her that closed off in quite a while. His shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh.

"What!" Ziva said, the aggravation in her voice suddenly making the air in the bedroom feel heavy.

Tony was barely able to contain an undignified huff and closed his eyes for a moment while inhaling deeply, calmly. It would be so easy to give in to their usual fighting. To just yell and throw barbs at each other, until one of them cut too deep.

Clearly, the way he slowly exhaled and made an effort to keep his facial expression open and relaxed made her uncomfortable. Her brow furrowed the tiniest bit as her eyes flitted all over and her arms actually crossed in front of her chest.

"Ziva," he tried again, sounding as calm as possible. "We really need to talk."

He could actually hear her swallow while she blinked rapidly, squaring her shoulders and dropping her hands in front of her. The same way she had done in that small hotel bathroom a month ago.

This wasn't going well. In fact, this was going a lot worse than he had anticipated.

"Will you please talk to me," he tried again softly, making an effort to reign in his fear of screwing this up before it even truly started. "You've been acting weird all week and…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't figure it out, Ziva. Did I do or say something wrong?"

Ziva's eyebrows knit together and she shook her head curtly, closing her eyes for a moment. "No, you did nothing wrong."

"Okay," he replied, not entirely convinced. "Then what's wrong?"

"It is nothing," she replied exasperated. "I just…it is not you."

He shook his head, "Don't give me the 'it's not you, it's me speech', Ziva, because I've heard that before." He grimaced. "Well, actually, I'm better acquainted with the 'it's you, how could you do this to me speech'."

Ziva huffed and smiled sadly. "It is really not you, Tony." She placed a hand on his cheek, looking him in the eye with that sad expression again. "You…" She bit her bottom lip in hesitation. "You have been wonderful…to have around, but I understand that you want to go home."

The soft touch of her hand had distracted him and put a smile on his lips. It wasn't until Ziva dropped her hand, that her words sank in and his smile faded.

"Wait…I'm doing what now?" His throat suddenly felt dry.

"Gibbs was right yesterday. You do not need my help anymore." She shrugged again.

Tony's mind was reeling. Did she want him to leave? Did she want him to leave because of Gibbs? Did she think he wanted to leave?

"So…you want me to leave?" he asked tentatively, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Ziva opened and closed her mouth. "I want you to do what is right for you."

And then it dawned on him.

"You think I want to leave," he said, wondering which was worse; Ziva wanting him to leave, or her thinking he wanted to leave. "Why would you think that?" he asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"You wanted me to drop you off at your apartment because you're able to drive again."

Tony let out a laugh of relief. At the hurt look on her face he quickly explained, "I wanted to pick up my car so I could get around without having to bother you or take a bus." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Maybe grab a few more clothes and movies."

Ziva still didn't look convinced. He threaded his fingers through her hair. "Do you want me to leave?" he repeated softly.

The multitude of emotions swirling in her eyes and her hesitation made his heart hurt for her. He hated how everything she had been through made her so cautious, so hesitant to let people know what she truly wanted.

When his phone rang in the other room, Tony swore loudly and dropped his hands from her hair, certain his chances had just been ruined, when her eyes once again refused to meet his. He let out a frustrated sigh and walked off to answer his phone.

He had just answered the call when Ziva unexpectedly placed a hand on his arm. Too irritated by another disruptive phone call, he hadn't even noticed she had followed him.

"No," she said softly. And for a moment he had trouble remembering how he had phrased his question. His frat buddy talking in his ear over the phone wasn't exactly helping him focus.

"I…want you to…stay," she said, haltingly, but sounding a lot more confident.

"Really?" he asked slightly stunned as a wide smile slowly broke out on his face.

Ziva merely nodded, her own smile firmly in place now, then headed back into the bedroom to finish the laundry.

He took a few moments to let the warm feeling that had started to spread after hearing her words settle within him, before turning his attention to the phone conversation. There was an unexpected extra ticket for the Buckeyes game that afternoon, but Tony declined, preferring to record the game and spend the rest of the afternoon with Ziva. His frat buddy called him a whipped boyfriend and Tony replied, "I hope so," before ending the call.

§

Later that evening, Tony padded into the bedroom, briefly stopping in the doorway to take in Ziva. She was sitting cross-legged, wearing the tank top and shorts she'd put on after dinner, hair curly and wild, eyes scanning right to left, brows slightly furrowed at the book she was holding. She had insisted he watch the recorded game after dinner, while she finished a book she had started weeks ago.

He crawled onto the bed and plopped down on his back with his head in her lap. Ziva moved the book to her right so she could look down at him.

"May I help you?" Crinkles appeared around her eyes.

"I'm lonely," Tony said giving her his best puppy dog face.

"Game not going well?" An amused smile graced her lips. He merely pouted.

Ziva placed the book on the nightstand and put her hand on his chin, drawing him into her while leaning down to kiss him languidly. Any thought of sports slipped his mind and he was suddenly convinced this was what lazy Sundays were all about.

"Mmm, very Spider-Man," Tony said after she let go of his bottom lip. Ziva frowned and he elaborated, "Upside down kiss." At her blank expression, he continued, "Seriously, you haven't seen Spider-Man?"

"Are you going to continue talking about movies, or continue kissing me?" Ziva asked sweetly.

"I never knew that was an option. It could've saved you from having to listen to years of movie referenc-"

Her lips on his effectively ended that conversation. He hummed approvingly when she slid a hand under the collar of his t-shirt, letting her fingers run through his chest hair. Their kissing became more urgent, and his nerve endings started to stir and tingle.

Tony briefly broke the kiss and said lowly, "You're going to stretch the collar."

"Then maybe you should take off your shirt," Ziva suggested, licking her lips and removing her hand from where it had been teasing a nipple.

He sat up and did exactly that before lying down and pulling her with him. Ziva slowly ran a hand down his chest to the waistband of his sweatpants, bumping his nose with hers, not breaking eye contact.

"Easy access, I like it," she said huskily, snapping the elastic.

Tony chuckled lowly before capturing her lips with his and running a hand through her soft curls. It was taking all of his willpower to keep the kiss slow and sweet, trying to recapture that lazy Sunday evening feel. He moved to his side, running the fingers of his right hand down to her hip, catching her eye in between little pecks on her lips.

"I distinctly remember getting a favorable reaction from you…" he said with a grin and a glint in his eye as his fingers trailed over the cotton of her shorts and the soft bare skin of her thigh, "last time I touched you," he slightly pressed his fingers to the back of her knee, "right there."

Ziva reached a hand to the back of his head and pulled him down for another kiss. Slow and sweet had apparently left the building and been replaced with fast and needy. When he moved all his weight on his left arm to lean over her and pull her leg over his hip, he couldn't hold back a yelp as pain shot through his still healing shoulder.

Ziva flipped him on his back effortlessly, sprawling all over him. She ran kisses over his shoulder, then licked and kissed her way over his neck and jaw, to his mouth.

"Better?" she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Tony ran his hands over her ass and squeezed, pulling her to him. Her hips bucked on their own accord, making him grin and murmur, "Much."

The throaty chuckle that left her slightly swollen lips, made his cock twitch and his temperature rise. He kissed her again, sucking on her tongue as the fingers of his left hand slipped from her neck, over her collarbone, under the tank top and down to her breast. She moaned into his mouth as the pads of his fingers lightly grazed over her nipple and he was surprised at how sensitive she was, remembering how often she showed up at work braless when she first joined NCIS.

Her hips started rocking against him, and he could feel his cock strain against the elastic of his sweatpants as he teased her nipple and touched his tongue to hers. When Ziva's lips left his mouth and moved to the sensitive skin below his jawline, he removed his hand from her breast and she looked up at him, ready to protest.

"I don't want to stretch the collar," he said huskily and grinned mischievously.

Ziva raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and sat up, increasing pressure where he wanted it most. He gripped the hem of her tank top, dragging it upward slowly. His eyes took in every inch of smooth tanned skin that was exposed and he was reminded of the few other times he had seen glimpses of her naked body, some under very different circumstances. Impatiently, she helped him pull the flimsy piece of clothing over her head and flung it aside.

Tony's eyes followed the trail of goosebumps his fingers left in their wake, from her stomach, around her belly button, between her breasts to her neck. When his gaze finally met hers, she was staring down at him with eyes so full of want, his heartbeat turned into a frenzied hammering. He raised himself up to a sitting position and her eyelids fluttered as he placed chaste kisses all over her face.

"I still owe you that interest," he said in a gravelly voice, in between kisses.

Ziva drew in a quick breath as her lips twitched into a smile. "What did you have in mind?" she murmured.

Tony pulled her down with him again and tucked a few stray curls behind her ear. He could feel her heat through his pants and struggled to clear his head, desire building within him rapidly.

"Unfortunately, I left my checkbook at my apartment," he quipped and she narrowed her eyes. "So I guess that leaves…manual labor."

Her eyes went wide a fraction of a second before he placed the palm of his hand between her legs and a jolt ran through her body. Tony groaned when he realized just how wet she was, the cotton barrier of her shorts already damp. As he moved the palm of his hand back and forth with increased pressure, she crushed her lips to his in response. Her tongue moved smoothly around his as he started tugging down her shorts, his desire to feel all of her taking over. She hovered over him on one arm, sliding a hand down his chest towards his stomach, her eyes leaving no doubt as to what her intention was. His hips lurched towards her, aching for her warmth, but that wasn't what he wanted. Not yet, anyway.

Tony gently covered her hand with his, shaking his head, a soft smile on his lips, and brought her palm up to kiss it. His lips trailed to the inside of her wrist, sucking on the sensitive skin and eliciting a soft whimper from her lips, then trailed kisses further down her arm, pulling her closer to him in the process. As much as Tony wanted to feel her hands pumping him again, he was determined to make this all about her. He hadn't forgotten that look she had given him in the ladies' room. And even though he was certain Ziva would always get what she wanted in the end, that look had told him that most men had never bothered to put her desires first.

His fingers found their way to her wet center again and as Ziva bit down on her lower lip at the soft contact, breathing in heavily, it felt as if all his senses had been heightened. The warm slickness on his fingers as they moved over her, the smell of her arousal, their combined heavy breathing and the way his name tumbled from her lips—a plea—were only stoking the fire within him. Tony let a finger slide in between her swollen folds and he couldn't take his eyes of her face. Every little move of his fingers brought a minute change to her expression and he felt like he was reading a book, where new adventures await with every flick of a page.

Ziva dropped her head and gently nipped at his neck. He took that as his cue to add another finger and speed up the rhythm. She let out a shuddery breath near his ear as a shiver ran through her body. He curled his fingers and knew exactly when he hit the right spot when she made a strangled noise and her thighs trembled.

"Don't stop," she gasped next to his ear, and not even the pain building in his shoulder could make him stop now.

Tony angled his head to get a better look at her face, his fingers still pressing inside her in the rhythm she liked. She was grinding against his hand now, growing even wetter, a flush spreading over her chest and face. Her fingers fisted in his hair and she pulled his face close to hers, panting and moaning in his ear. He missed not being able to see her, but as he breathed in the lingering scent of her shampoo mixed with the heady smell of sex, her wetness coating his hand and seeping through his pants making his dick twitch, eager for more, he decided there would be plenty of opportunities to watch her come in the near future.

Tony flicked his thumb against her swollen clit, and would have chuckled at her strong reaction, if her biting his earlobe and grinding against him with her entire body hadn't sent shockwaves straight to his dick. He realized for the first time exactly how turned on he could get trying to help Ziva get off and how close he was to coming in his pants.

"Oh god, Tony," she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair, then loosening, in sync with the rhythm of his fingers inside her.

"Let go, Ziva." His voice was thick with emotion.

The whimper in his ear and clenching of her muscles, made him whisper it over and over again, and with a final flick of his thumb her whole body tensed, then shuddered.

Tony's fingers moved in and over her slowly until all tension had left her body and he heard her inhale a shaky breath.

"Oh god, Tony," she repeated in his ear, voice low and laced with awe.

He couldn't help but smirk as he held her a bit tighter, memorizing the sound of her voice, and murmured, "I'm glad you're finally acknowledging my divinity."

Ziva pushed herself up on one elbow to stare at him for a moment. Suddenly her hand was between them, pushing his pants down. She slid her wet center over his swollen cock without warning, biting her bottom lip.

"God, Ziva!" he growled, feeling lightheaded at the sudden onslaught of sensation.

His fingers dug into her hips, keeping her in place as he twitched at their closeness. When he regained control over his body, his gaze drifted to hers. He chuckled lightly at her smug look.

"I always knew we'd be divine together," he said lowly, placing a hand on the back of her head to bring her lips closer for a slow, deep kiss.

Ziva kissed her way to his ear and buried her face in his neck, letting out a sigh of contentment and placing a hand against his cheek as she relaxed on top of him. Tony's grin widened as he felt her lips and tongue caress his neck. She ran her thumb over his lips and he kissed it softly, prompting her to look at him again.

Tony's heart skipped a few beats at the look Ziva was giving him. He hardly ever saw her so relaxed, so open, so unguarded. All her walls were down, there wasn't even a picket fence trying to hold him out. All he could think was that they should've done this a long time ago.

His fingers trailed circles all over her back as they drowned in each other's eyes for what felt like eternity. Ziva nuzzled his nose, still caressing his face and lips with her thumb. "I always imagined you would be good at this kind of manual labor," she said playfully.

Tony laughed and reveled in feeling her body on top of his shaking with laughter. "You really should tell me about your fantasies some day."

Ziva brushed her lips across his briefly. "Perhaps I should."

The mischievous glint in her eye sent a new rush of tingles down his body. Smelling her arousal on his fingers as he wiped a few curls from her face made his cock twitch and hips buck at the memory of going down on her three weeks ago, and he was overcome with need.

"I want to taste you again," he said, voice husky and determined.

She ran her thumb over his lips, eyes wide, her heartbeat picking up speed against his chest. He kissed her deeply, then moved his lips down her neck, grabbing her waist and pulling her higher. His tongue flicked her nipple before closing his mouth over it and sucking, and Ziva let out a gasp as she clutched at the hair on the back of his head, pulling him closer to her chest. Tony could take a hint and kept up his ministrations, palming her other breast with his left hand.

When her moans and gasps began to test Tony's patience and self control, he flicked an erect nipple one last time with his tongue and grabbed her ass none too gently, pulling her high up his chest, eliciting another gasp from her mouth. Ziva gripped the headboard and positioned herself over his face. Her anticipation was palpable in the way she licked her lips and caught his eye.

Never breaking eye contact, Tony placed his hands on her thighs and pulled her down to his mouth. She jerked slightly at the first lick. He held her tighter and placed his mouth over her wet center, teasingly running his tongue lightly between her folds.

Ziva's eyes closed as she bit her bottom lip on a moan. Tony started flicking her clit with his tongue, but when she tugged his hair a faint grimace on her face he went back to the long strokes and sucking that helped her over the edge last time. The death grip on his hair loosened and her head lolled back.

Every little gasp and moan sent tingles coursing through his body, settling low in his belly, and he knew right then and there that he would never tire of this. When Ziva leaned back, placing her hands on his hips, he was disappointed at no longer being able to see the emotions flit all over her face. His disappointment disappeared when she tossed her head back further and the ends of her curls caressed his dick. He groaned at the feathery soft and unexpected sensation.

Ziva's head shot forward again to look at him. The glint in her eye and the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth told him she was up to no good. He narrowed his eyes and sucked on her clit longer than he had before. Her head lolled back again while she moaned his name wantonly.

And just as he'd expected her hair touched his cock again, only this time it was clearly intentional. He couldn't contain another groan, and the way she bucked her hips made it clear she didn't mind the reverberations his moans sent through her.

Ziva brushed her hair over his cock a few more times, before shifting her weight to one arm and running the pads of two fingers over the underside of his hard cock. Tony's hips bucked in an involuntary effort to increase the touch. He temporarily forgot what he was doing as she repeated the caress, his fingers digging into her thighs as blood roared in his ears.

When she fondled his balls and he groaned her name in warning, she let out a throaty chuckle. Tony took it as a challenge and lapped at her center, twisting his arm and wrist uncomfortably so he could rub her clit with his thumb.

Ziva bolted upright, letting out what could only be a string of Hebrew cuss words. He chuckled, mouth still firmly in place, thumb moving smoothly over her swollen clit. She grabbed the headboard with one hand, his hair in the other, as she gasped for air.

The moans leaving her lips, the way her fingers alternated between massaging his scalp and lightly tugging his hair, hips rolling, told him she was getting close. Which is why he was completely baffled when she suddenly lifted herself off of his face, breaking the grasp he had on her thigh.

Ziva was gripping the headboard with both hands now, eyes pinched shut, mouth open, panting. Tony absentmindedly licked his lips, savoring the wetness and wondering why she didn't let him finish. He ran his hands over the backs of her thighs and ass gently, and she opened her eyes to look at him, a grin forming on her lips. The carnal look on her face sent sparks up and down his spine.

Ziva lowered her hands to either side of his head as she lowered herself and slowly slid down his body until they were face to face. Her eyes flicked to his lips and she took his lower lip between hers, then deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth. She lowered her hips a fraction more, bumping her wet center against the tip of his engorged cock. They moaned in unison and Tony couldn't help but grin; he always suspected they'd be fireworks together and if this build-up was any indication, he'd be proven right.

She broke the kiss, her lips just out of his reach, breathing the same air, eyes locked in a drunken haze.

His intent had been to draw this out as long as possible, but when Ziva slid her wet folds over his throbbing cock, back and forth, arching her back, all he wanted was to be inside her, now, and lose himself in her.

After clumsily removing his sweatpants all the way, in a flurry of frantically moving, tangled limbs, he took a few deep breaths, desperately trying to get a grip of the electricity coursing through his veins. Just for a couple of seconds, long enough to make sure that Ziva wanted this as much as he did. Sure, she was the one currently rubbing her slickness all over him—and oh god, that felt so good—but they never actually talked about…them. This. What the make-out sessions meant. Or why he felt so damn comfortable letting her take care of him this past month. And why he really didn't want to move back to his place.

Tony caressed the side of her face, then tangled his fingers in her hair.

"Ziva," he whispered questioningly, voice breaking the tiniest bit, hoping she would understand with that one word, her name, how much this—she—meant to him.

She rested her forehead against his, placed her hand on his cheek and stared him in the eye. Her dark curls enveloped them in a cocoon and the air around them seemed to crackle.

"Tony." A smile tugged at her lips as his name left her mouth. He hoped to hear her say his name like that every day for the rest of his life. Full of desire, adoration and confidence.

And as his chest felt like it was about to explode, and he drowned in the depths of emotions written on her face, Ziva slowly, almost tentatively, sank down on him.

"Tony." A moan this time, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

They remained still for a few sweet moments, lost in the sensation of finally taking this step. Lost in each other. A whimper of protest died on his lips at the loss of full body contact when Ziva placed her hands on his chest and sat up, and was replaced by a groan as she started moving up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

His eyes darted all over her, from her smoldering eyes to her parted lips, over her small, perky breasts to where they were joined. Her hips were picking up speed, and he ran his hands over her strong thighs, feeling the muscles below the velvety soft skin strain with her movements. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew the cast on his right wrist was probably scraping her skin none too gently, but the overwhelming fire coursing through his body made it hard to stop. He needed to feel more of her.

"Closer," he grunted, trying hard to focus his eyes on hers. He put a hand around her wrist and tugged gently.

Ziva leaned down, her mouth less than an inch from his, her nipples barely caressing his chest, when she looked at him with hooded eyes and huskily asked, "Like this?"

Tony bruised her lips with his as he lost control, wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders, pulling her flush to his body, and started pounding into her. He swallowed her surprised gasp greedily and was urged on when she sucked on his tongue desperately.

The sound of their moans and bodies coming together, combined with the feeling of Ziva all over him, all around him was getting too much, and Tony knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

He sloppily kissed his way to the soft skin of her neck, then moved to her ear and murmured hoarsely, "You're never close enough."

Ziva shuddered and gasped for air as she clenched around him, bringing him with her, shockwaves rippling through him.

Her face was buried in his neck and he was secretly relieved she hadn't made a move to slide off of him yet. Then again, his arms were still wrapped around her, trapping her against him gently.

"Why exactly did we wait this long to have sex?" She sounded slightly out of breath.

"Because we're idiots," he chuckled lowly. His fingers started trailing all over her back.

Ziva looked up at him skeptically, yet unable to hide the crinkles around her eyes. "Well, obviously you are an idiot. I on the other hand, am not." The tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth again and his heart skipped a beat, the way it always did when she did that.

"I'm pretty sure you're an even bigger idiot at relationships than I am, Ziva," he teased, nuzzling her nose.

"I would threaten you with bodily harm…" She sucked on his bottom lip. "But I am exhausted." A quick peck on his lips. "And I need your body in one piece for what I have in mind later on."

"I always knew you were only interested in my body," he replied, getting lost in her eyes.

Ziva snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep better at night."

"Well, after a month-long thorough investigation, that would appear to be you, Ziva."

His honesty and seriousness took both of them by surprise, and he briefly feared he'd gone too far too fast. No matter how many times he'd planned to broach the subject of them, he'd always chickened out at the last second, opting for a quick joke instead.

Her lips parted as if to say something, then she gave him that small smile she reserved just for him and kissed him slowly, deeply, and he knew he'd said the right thing, after all.

§

The alarm woke both of them from a deep sleep that Monday morning. Tony's left arm flailed wildly in the direction the sound was coming from without actually hitting the offending device. It didn't stop until Ziva smoothly reached out an arm and pressed the right button, before molding her back to his chest again.

He wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her closer, enjoying the warmth of her body against his, and the heat building inside of him as he remembered why there weren't any clothes separating them this fine morning.

He inhaled deeply and sighed. "It's Sunday, right? Work with me here. We can pretend it's Groundhog Day," he murmured in her ear.

Ziva turned her head, brow furrowed, then asked, voice laced with sleep, "What is Groundhog Day?"

Tony raised his eyebrows and leaned on his elbow to look at her. "Well, I guess I know which movie we're watching tonight."

"Really?" She sounded disappointed. "Watching a movie wasn't exactly what I had in mind for tonight." She rolled her hips back for emphasis.

He grinned, feeling a tingle run through his body again. "You were right," he drawled and softly touched his lips to hers.

"I am always right, you're going to have to be more specific," she said huskily before lightly biting on his bottom lip, then soothing it with her tongue.

"I'm an idiot," he said with a smile before deepening the kiss and preventing the chuckle from leaving her mouth.

Ziva broke the kiss and turned to lie on her back so she could place a hand on his cheek.

"Only sometimes," she said earnestly, before pecking him on the lips and sliding her hand down to rest over his heart briefly. "I am going to take a shower and-"

"Do you need a hand?" he leered and winked.

Ziva got out of bed, ignoring his pout, and continued, "And make breakfast."

He relished the fact that he was now allowed to admire her naked body as she walked over to the bathroom, swinging her hips enticingly.

"Perhaps I could use a hand tonight," she said seductively as she looked over her shoulder. "If you're not too busy watching a movie," she added before closing the bathroom door behind her.


End file.
